


Snow North of the Wall

by Luthorchickv2



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Depression, Dom/sub, M/M, Post-Season/Series Finale, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Season 8 ending compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 20:10:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18924193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthorchickv2/pseuds/Luthorchickv2
Summary: Jon’s been a bastard, a king, the heir, a savior and a killer, a a success and a failure, a hero and the exile. When all is said and done who is Jon Snow?Jon falls apart after being exiled. Tormund helps him find himself again.





	Snow North of the Wall

**Author's Note:**

> My Jon is more fragile than in the series. But he’s been through a lot in a very short time and probably has serious issues after everything.
> 
> Kudos and comments are treasured.

Jon arrives at Castle Black barely holding himself together. In the span of a very short time he has, been Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, died, been King of the North, bent the knee, been the Heir to the Iron Throne, Queenslayer and finally, exiled. He’s had so many titles and roles that he no longer knows what he is. He can barely guide his horse through the gates. Everyone stares and he can’t stand it. He wants to slump into the saddle and hide, and it’s only Tormund’s gaze that holds him together enough to slide off the horse and cuddle Ghost. A young boy, who reminds him painfully of Ollie sweeps the horse away and the New Lord Commander comes to escort him. No one knows how to treat him and he misses his Night’s Watch brothers with a fireceness that physically hurts. 

A small group has gathered to watch him take his vows and when the time comes, his oath on his lips, he finds that he can’t, he can’t say the words. He’s not sure why, this is what he has wanted, wasn’t it? To be back in the North? He tries to force the words out, to bind himself to his duty once more but all he can see is the table where he can come back to life and the reminder that last time he took this oath it ended with him dead. It’s only when Tormund steps in front of him and, with a gentleness rarely shown in front of strangers, runs a finger down Jon’s cheek that Jon realized he is crying, sobbing silently. 

“Come now, Little Crow. You need to rest. Time enough to for oaths later.” Tormund glares at the Lord Commander who makes to stop him and the man pauses. 

“Yes, perhaps, tomorrow would be best.” he says stiffly and moves to allow Tormund to guide Jon out of the room. They stop once the door has closed and Jon finds that his legs won’t work and his body won’t take in air. Perhaps it is death pulling him back. He grasps the fur covering Tormund’s shoulder and pulls to get Tormund’s attention. The larger man peers down at him. “Fuck it.” He says and before Jon knows it he is curled in Tormund’s arms and being carried from the castle. 

Tormund brings him to small shack outside the walls, his temporary lodging and settles down with him on a pile of soft furs. 

Away from the castle, and the men and the scene of his failure Jon can breathe again even if he can’t stop crying. He should be embarrassed, a grown man curled on another’s lap, crying like a babe, but it’s Tormund, who has seen every part of Jon and he can’t bring himself to care. The crying eventually slows and he can hear Tormund crooning nonsense in his ear. Finally words come to him that he can get past his lips. 

“I keep failing. Over and over again. I had to kill her and they just got rid of me. The bastard to be hidden away in the North, inconvenient and a problem. Why don’t I belong?” He whispers, the secret question of his heart being given life and stringing thoughts and feelings together not caring if they make sense or not.  
Tormund presses his head to Jon’s. “You’ve been misused, my little crow. But no more. The kneelers have given you up and they can’t have you back. You belong to the real North and to me now. We got word of the what had happened and I waited for you, Jon. Come north with me, leave the fuckers who don’t deserve you behind. They’ve wasted you. No, you may not have been perfect but no man is and you gave everything to make the world a better a place and fuck them who can’t see it.” 

Jon leans into Tormund. “I don’t know who I am anymore and I am so very tired.”

“You are Jon Snow, champion of the freefolk and maybe now you can see who that really is.”

Jon breathes, mind leaping from one thought to another. If he does this, he’ll never be able to come home again. Never see Sansa, or Bran, or Arya again.

“They’ll understand. Come home with me.” Tormund asks again, reading his thoughts. Jon wonders when he became so transparent and decides it doesn’t matter. None of it matters.

So Jon, tired of trying to meet everyone’s expectations and failing, gives in. He nods


End file.
